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‘But everyone’s been mega friendly.’ Gethin looks puzzled.
‘They’ll aye be friendly but keeping their guard. They think I’m weird because I lived in California.’
‘But you’re from here, isn’t it?’
Iain leans in, conspiratorial. ‘They call me Beach Boy – rumour has it I might be gay.’ He grins, waiting for a reaction.
Gethin rises to it, of course. ‘But that’s so wrong, just because you surf, and then, well, who cares if…?’
‘Hiring Aiden confirms it all,’ Iain winks while Aiden blows him a mocking kiss.
Gethin shakes his head in moral outrage.
‘Och, come on,’ Iain turns serious. ‘Will we raise a dram for the whales?’
We down our drams, stay quiet for a minute. There’s a numbing glow from the peaty sweetness, but I can’t be thinking about those whales for long.
‘I’m going for a cig,’ I announce.
‘Good idea!’ Gethin grins at me.
I’m the first out as they sit making rollups. Take a breath of earthy dampness before lighting up under the roof overhang. I lean back on the wall, watching the drip from the gutter.
‘No, mate, I’m like just the passenger,’ Gethin says as he piles through the door. I signal to him and pass him my lighter.
‘Cheers. Aiden says he’s staying in the warm as he’s just got here.’
‘Aye, I’ll go back with him in a bit,’ Iain says.
Gethin exhales his smoke into the white air. ‘But I was just telling Iain about your bike. Harley Roadster, is it?’
‘Sportster.’
‘Mean machine. And you rode it all the way up from Bolton?’
‘Blackburn.’
‘These Lancashire towns,’ Gethin mutters. ‘But yeah, I literally only hopped on for the last hundred miles or so from Lochgillan.’
‘Lochgillan? There was a Motorcycle Museum there at one time,’ Iain starts.
Gethin freezes. Stares panic at me.
‘It’s still there,’ I keep my tone neutral. ‘Right interesting, tons of good stuff.’
‘What do you know about it, Iain?’ Gethin’s voice sounds strained, but Iain doesn’t seem to notice.
‘Oh, things you hear.’ Iain takes a puff of his cigarette. ‘The fella who runs it was a bit like me. Went away and came back to aggravate the locals. Except it’s mainly good-natured banter with me.’
‘Not with him, then, is it?’ Gethin asks.
‘The talk was his museum was attracting unsavoury types, greasy bikers off-roading and littering up the beach. You know how folk go on.’
‘Can’t say the place was crawling when I was there. Though I’ll have been one of them, right?’ I say.
‘Aye, you’ll have set the tongues wagging for sure,’ Iain jokes. ‘But then he’s got a reputation for the young lassies, so they say.’
‘Is that so?’ Why am I not completely surprised?
